


Steps of Service

by kawaiigeyamaa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Bartender Keith (Voltron), Bartender Shiro (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coran is the best manager you’ll ever work for, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith is a hot bartender, Lance is the nervous new kid, M/M, Manager Coran (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rating May Change, Shiro is also a hot bartender, Voltron restaurant au, Waiter Lance (Voltron), allura is a boss ass bitch, restaurant AU, voltron is a restaurant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiigeyamaa/pseuds/kawaiigeyamaa
Summary: Moving to Altea is not for the faint of heart. Lance knew going into this that the cost of living would be higher than it was in Arizona. On top of that, even with his scholarship, graduate tuition at University of Altea is still no joke. Since he’s burning through what cash he had saved up (at $1050 a month, his studio apartment is a steal, but first and last month’s rent, security deposit, application AND broker’s fee will still make a dent), a service industry job was the logical solution.Hopefully nothing at the workplace becomes a distraction...Or: the Voltron restaurant AU where the new kid develops a crush on the edgy bartender, and ruckus ensues. Restaurants can get so dramatic and incestual, y’all. Trust me, I work at one.





	Steps of Service

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> -I don't own Voltron or any of the characters  
> -Any resemblance to the restaurant at which I work, if by some slim chance one of my colleagues finds this story, is not intended to offend
> 
> The idea for this AU came to me while I was commuting to work. I work at a restaurant in NYC, so the story will be highly reflective of the restaurant culture here. I’ll do my best to still make it accessible to anyone who isn't familiar with the service industry, but the restaurant aspect is really secondary to the characters themselves. This work is fiction, but if any of the Voltron crew's personalities seem off, it's because they're somewhat influenced by people I actually work with. Furthermore, I’ve always said I relate to Lance, meaning there will definitely be projection of myself in his personality - sorry in advance if he seems especially out of character. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr and Instagram @kawaiigeyamaa, where I’ll probably start drawing sketches or little mini comics centered around this fic!

According to Google Maps, the commute to the restaurant shouldn’t be as long as it feels right now. Lance doesn’t know the city too well yet, but the trip seemed shorter when he went in for his interview last week. He might be on time if the driver would just speed through the yellow lights like all the other aggressive drivers in this town, but it seems like his anxious leg is shaking faster than the bus is moving. 

When he finally recognizes his surroundings, he all but pushes the bus doors open himself and sprints the four blocks over from the bus stop to the restaurant, cursing the sweat pooling through his shirt. The humidity doesn't help him feel any less sticky. _Good looks, McClain,_ he sighs.

By some miracle, he makes it with just enough time to toss things into a locker, dry his armpits under the hand dryer in the bathroom, splash some cold water on his face, and grab a black apron into which he shoves a handful of pens and his notepad. He spots the lunch service crew leisurely chatting among themselves in the back of the restaurant. 

“Hey there, Lance! Good to see you again!” He’s faced with a bushy ginger mustache, friendly hand extended before him.

“Likewise, Coran.” Lance reaches with as firm a grip as he can muster despite the dampness of his palm.

“Alright everybody,” begins Coran, and everyone circles up around him. “Let’s go over some things for lunch service today. First thing’s first, say hello to Lance. He’ll be training with us today as a server.”

Lance waves awkwardly at no one in particular.

“I’m putting you on the spot now. Do you have a fun fact you’d like to share about yourself?”

“Uh…” Suddenly Lance forgets his own last name. “I’ll be starting grad school here at the end of the month.”

 _Dammit, you couldn't even say what you're studying?? SUCH a fun fact._ He silently screams. _Everyone is totally gonna want to be friends with you now._

After talking the team through this afternoon’s reservations and various menu changes, Coran sends everyone off. 

“Let’s have a good service. Enjoy your family meal, and be sure to introduce yourselves to Lance sometime today.”

Coran approaches Lance followed by a girl with robin-blue eyes that stand out against her dark skin. Her white hair sits in a high bun, a thin gold headband holding her bangs back. 

“Lance, I’m going to stick you with Allura today. She’s one of our senior servers, so you're in good hands,” says Coran.

“Oh Coran, stop,” she laughs. “Anyway, I’ll do my best. I won’t be too hard on you, but only this time, since it’s your first day.”

Deep down, Lance knows she’s joking, but that doesn't stop the fresh perspiration dripping down his forehead. 

Family meal, Lance learns, is a pre-shift meal provided by the restaurant that he gets everyday he comes to work. The food looks good, but the situation does nothing to alleviate his nerves, thrusting him back into the mind of a sixth grader at a new school, scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit where he won't be picked on. Lance decides that the empty, large round table in the back can't be the worst place to sit. Allura sits opposite him, followed by a handsome, broad-shouldered man with a white forelock who introduces himself as Shiro. 

“So Lance,” Shiro begins, startling a distracted Lance, who was scrolling through Instagram, “Where are you from?”

“Cuba originally,” he responds, easing into the simple question. “But I moved to America about 6 years ago for college.”

“Oh, cool, did you go to school here in the city?” 

“No, I actually went to Garrison University, if you've heard of it? It's kind of in the middle of nowhere in Arizona.”

“Ah, yeah. I hear they've got a mean swim program over there?”

Lance nods. “I was actually on a scholarship there for swimming."

Conversation continues without incident until their break ends, but the shift is 6 hours long, so he mentally calculates all the things that could still go wrong from here. 

Lance isn’t usually this anxious. In fact, he's typically outgoing - some might even say charming - and quick to get caught up in conversation with anyone and everyone. And he’s worked in restaurants before, albeit not quite as fancy as this, but this isn't totally foreign to him. Still, he can't shake the feeling that he's going to royally screw up, getting himself fired before his training week even ends.

He needs this job more than anything right now, as moving to Altea is not for the faint of heart. Lance knew going into this that the cost of living would be higher than it was in Arizona. On top of that, even with his scholarship, graduate tuition at University of Altea is still no joke. Thus, a part-time service job would be the only solution, and since he’s burning through what cash he had saved up (at $1050 a month, his studio apartment is a steal, but first and last month’s rent, security deposit, application AND broker’s fee will still make a dent), he can't afford to waste more time shopping around for a job. 

So he listens closely to every word Allura says, taking detailed notes on how she greets tables and introduces the menu. Allura seems to have her timing down to a T. “Menus, water, beverages, questions,” she repeats to Lance. “Wash, rinse, repeat. But the conversations are always a little different.” 

“You can typically read a table easier than you think,” she suggests. “I can already tell that couple at table 24 probably won't get anything to drink. But if you look at table 14, the gentleman in the suit is scanning the wine list so they'll probably go for a bottle. Do you see what I mean?”

“Makes sense,” Lance nods. “So how do you decide who to approach first?”

“Which one do you think?”

“Well, I’d say table 24 first, since their menus are off to the side, it'd be better to get their order going first.” 

“Right. And the gentleman at 14, what's his position number?”

“Position 3?”

“Right. He will probably have questions about the wine list, we should get as much as we can done before we devote our time over there, because we'll likely be discussing things for a while. Especially if you're prepared to schmooze.”

Allura sends Lance to get the order off of 24 and nods in approval at his tableside manner. 

“That was perfect,” she praises. “I’ll do 14 now since you don't know the wine list yet.”

He watches as she navigates the wine list with the gentleman at table 14 and returns with an order. 

“Hey Lauren,” Allura starts, tapping a girl on the shoulder, “Do you have a second to drop four wine glasses on 14?”

“You got it.”

Allura turns back to Lance. “Always helps to ask someone in the support staff to get those tasks done you while you get the bottle. As a server, you're the one driving the ship. Lauren is one of our backwaiters, and they're here to help you sail as efficiently and smoothly as possible. Now let's go to the bar.”

He follows her to the bar where the man from family meal, Shiro, stands. Alongside him is a shorter man with raven hair pulled into a small low ponytail, his back turned to Lance. 

“Hey guys, I need a bottle of the 2016 Balmera Riesling." She hands Shiro the printed order ticket. 

“I’ll be right back,” says Shiro, heading towards the stairs. 

“So any time you get a bottle, you either go to a bartender or manager to grab it for you from the wine cellar downstairs,” Allura notes, and Lance nods. "If it's one of our by-the-glass wines, the bottles are all right here at the bar, and you can feel free to grab it yourself if the bartenders are busy."

A ticket prints out near the bar’s computer and the dark-haired man sets it on the rail on the bar counter. He grabs a jigger in one hand, a bottle in the other, and begins pouring things faster than Lance can even read the labels on the bottles. It mesmerizes Lance how seamlessly he moves, making whatever the cocktail is purely from muscle memory. 

“Lance, this is Keith, he's one of our bartenders,” she says. “Keith, this is Lance.” 

Keith snaps the lid shut and begins shaking the cocktail in one hand while extending the other for Lance. Lance sure hopes Keith didn't notice him quickly wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans before meeting him in the middle. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Lance curses the slight involuntary crack in his words. Something about Keith flusters him more than anything else has today, perhaps the intensity of his violet eyes or the slight rasp of his voice. 

“Jesus Keith, don’t scare him away!” Allura jokes and when Keith releases his hand, Lance releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 

“What?! I’m not!” Keith scowls. 

“Sorry Lance, Keith’s fragile masculinity forces him to intimidate every new male that works here. I know he looks scary, but deep down, he's the most sensitive guy I know.”

“Oh Allura, come on,” Keith whines, childlike pout on his face. "Don't worry, Keithy," Allura croons in a patronizing baby voice as she pinches Keith's cheek, "you're still the alpha, okay?" Lance can’t help but laugh. Their eyes meet and Keith’s expression softens, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly, blowing some air out of his nose. 

Just then, Shiro walks through the backdoor, Riesling in hand. “Sorry I took so long, but here’s the bottle.”

“No worries, thanks!” Allura begins walking towards table 14, prompting Lance to follow. Over her shoulder, she calls out, “Love ya Keith!”

Lance turns to look at Keith again, only for a blush to creep up his neck when he finds that Keith is looking at him too.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! How do we think Lance’s first day went? Sorry for all of the restaurant mechanics, but I just wanted to establish the flow of service before we start getting into how Lance finds his groove. 
> 
> I’m trying to strike a balance with developing these characters while accurately painting the image of the restaurant world. Like I said before, I want the story to be accessible, so please let me know if it's getting boring or if I’m not explaining things well enough. I do think the social culture surrounding the restaurant industry is a very interesting world and will be pertinent to the character development and relationships later on. 
> 
> On another note, I also have not yet decided what Lance is studying in grad school. Possibly creative writing? Psychology? Marine biology? This could really go in any direction.


End file.
